


Stuck Like Glue

by quokkall



Category: NCIS
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Humor, Prompt Fill, Romance, Shenanigans, TIVA - Freeform, superglue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quokkall/pseuds/quokkall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Tony thinks pranking McGee will make him feel better, but his plan backfires. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck Like Glue

Tony had been in a foul mood all Monday morning. After spending yet another weekend on his couch in front of the TV, alone, there was no denying he was in a dating slump. Not that he didn’t enjoy watching a movie by himself, but he was in the prime of his life. He should be getting out there and getting…some.

Instead of thinking about why he was in a slump, he decided to do what he always did when he felt bad; take it out on McGee. The only other alternative was getting under Ziva’s skin and that had proven impossible today. Not in the least because he kept getting distracted by how good she looked that morning, all wavy hair and sweet smiles, earth-toned sweater bringing out her eyes, hardly any  make-up on and those very well-fitting jeans that accentuated- Damn it, now she was distracting him without even being in the same room.

Tony stood up from his chair and looked around the bullpen, making sure his co-workers weren’t around, before opening his top desk drawer, taking out the superglue and walking over to McGee’s desk.

Focused on applying glue to McGee’s phone, being careful not to get any on his hands, Ziva suddenly spoke up, her breath tickling his ear.

“What are you doing?”

Tony jumped, spilled the glue, and slightly bumped into his partner.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You have to stop gluing McGee to the office supplies every time you feel down. Or bored. Or frustrated. Or obnoxiously happy.”

Tony frowned briefly. Either he was being way too obvious these days or his partner spent way too much time observing him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards remembering all the times he had indeed caught her staring at him. Unabashedly. Not that he didn’t stare right back.

She turned to walk towards her desk and said in exasperation, “I’m telling McGee this time.”

His eyes went wide and he grabbed her right hand to pull her back. “Oh come on, Ziva, it’s a harmless prank.”

Ziva huffed, “I don’t think he has any fingerprints left after all the times you’ve glued him to his keyboard.”

He smiled sheepishly. She had a point, maybe he should come up with something more original. Maybe-

“What are you two doing?” Gibbs’ gruff voice startled them.

When both of them kept gawking at him like deer caught in the headlights, he stared pointedly at their joined hands.

Tony pulled his left hand back as if he’d been burned, but wasn’t prepared for Ziva’s body colliding into his as a result. He was flat on his back, Ziva on top of him. He thought he heard Gibbs yell something, but he was too distracted by the smell of Ziva’s shampoo as her hair tickled his face.

The corners of her mouth twitched as she looked him in the eye a moment too long, before standing up. Or, at least, trying to stand up. The sweet smile she’d had not a second earlier turned into a scowl as she looked accusingly from their joined hands to his face.

“What did you do!”

He scrambled to his feet, a look of horror on his face as he tried to pull his hand free from Ziva’s. She simply pulled back twice as hard, murderous look on her face, making him lose his balance and almost landing them on the floor again.

“If you hadn’t snuck up on me, like I’ve asked you repeatedly not to, I wouldn’t have spilled glue all over my hand,” Tony bit back, inches from her face.

McGee’s cackles broke their angry stare.

“Serves you right,” McGee said with glee, sitting down behind his desk, surveying the sticky mess Tony had made.

Tony turned his attention back to Ziva, relieved she couldn’t actually shoot daggers out of her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he tried to placate her, “I have adhesive remover in my drawer.”

He walked over to his desk, giving Ziva no choice but to follow him. Holding up the bottle in triumph, he grinned at her and said, “I’m prepared for anything.”

Ziva rolled her eyes and huffed as he popped the cap off the bottle one-handed.

Tony turned the bottle upside down over their hands, eyes going wide, and mumbled, “Uh oh.”

Ziva stared at him. “What do you mean ‘uh oh’?”

He grimaced. “I forgot to buy a new bottle three weeks ago.”

The blank expression on Ziva’s face was in stark contrast to the fire in her eyes, so he put on his trademark DiNozzo smile hoping it would soften her up. Not that that had ever worked in the past.

“Grab your gear,” Gibbs said as he breezed past them.

Their eyes went wide, and Tony said, “Um, boss-“

“Not my problem you got yourself into a sticky situation, DiNozzo.”

“I hate you!” Ziva hissed staring Tony in the eye.

He pulled her flush against his body, looked down at her and casually said, “Really?”

Ziva nervously licked her lips, eyes flicking to his lips and then anywhere but at him as she said, “Just…grab your gear so I can get mine.”

The smirk didn’t leave his face as they collected their things and hurried to the elevator.

The head slaps they both received after stepping into the elevator weren’t entirely unexpected.

***

Two hours of weird looks from local LEOs, pulling, shoving, angry glares and cussing in several languages later, they stepped into the bullpen again.

Another pulling match ensued, trying to decide at whose desk they would sit.

“Gibbs, can we just quickly go out to find-“ Ziva started before their boss cut her off.

“The missing petty officer, Ziva? That’s a great idea.” Gibbs replied with a small smirk before turning to his computer screen.

Tony watched her look of disbelief and decided to cut her some slack.

“Let’s get my chair,” he said. “Maybe we can sneak down to the lab when he goes for a coffee run, see if Abby can help us out,” he whispered.

***

“Will you please talk more quietly,” Ziva hissed, holding the mouthpiece of her phone against her shoulder.

“Then stop breathing in my ear,” Tony shot back, covering his own phone.

Ziva gave him a coy smile. “That has never seemed to bother you before, Tony,” she purred.

“It has always _bothered_ me,” he replied testily, shifting in his seat. He narrowed his eyes as her eyebrow shot up. He leaned in to comment further, but Gibbs chose that moment to stand up, throw an empty coffee cup in the trash and head for the elevator.

“I’ll call you back,” they said in unison into their respective phones and Ziva roughly dragged Tony from his chair.

They rushed down the stairs, remarkably in sync this time, only to slam into Gibbs as they stormed into Abby’s lab. The flash from Abby’s camera barely registered as Gibbs’ stare froze them in place.

“We are…” Ziva began, trying to come up with an excuse.

“Lost,” Tony continued. Ziva turned to him, brow creased, nose crinkling, slightly shaking her head.

“We…were going to see Ducky,” he tried again.

“Yes, to ask him to amputate your left hand,” Ziva replied sarcastically glaring at him.

Tony sneered and pulled her out of the lab towards the elevator, not waiting for Gibbs’ reaction. The running down the stairs had drawn his attention to a physical discomfort he had tried to ignore for the past hour. Her recent threat to amputate his extremities made him even more reluctant to bring up the fact that he probably shouldn’t have drunk three Ventis that morning. Now that he thought about it, all that caffeine and sugar is probably what got him…them…into this mess in the first place.

They got out of the elevator and Tony gripped her hand a little tighter, coming to a stop. He looked her up and down. “Are you carrying a knife?”

“Of course I am,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tony considered his options. “Would you consider locking it safely away in a drawer?”

She frowned and deadpanned, “Of course not.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, biting his lower lip.

“What?” Ziva asked suspiciously.

“Ha, funny story…” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Did you notice the three large empty coffee cups in my trash can?”

She frowned, then started grinning until realization hit her and she crinkled her nose.

All he could do was shrug.

“Ugh, fine!”

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he said innocently as they walked towards the bathroom, “you’re always walking into the men’s room uninvited.” He regretted the words as soon as he noticed her glare and remembered she was carrying a knife, and that she was ambidextrous when it came to using weapons.

Unfortunately for them, the men’s room wasn’t empty when they walked in, holding hands. They both glared at Agent Fletcher, effectively stopping the grin from forming on his face. It probably wouldn’t stop the scuttlebutt, though. Then again, there was plenty of that going around about the two of them before this sticky new development.

The agent zipped up nervously and was almost out the door when Ziva shouted, “Wash your hands!”

Both Tony and Agent Fletcher flinched at the outburst, the latter quickly washing his hands while sneaking sideway glances at the two agents who were still—for all he knew—holding hands, before making a hasty retreat.

Tony looked from the closing door to Ziva standing next to him. Her chin was slightly tucked as she looked up to him from underneath her lashes, enigmatic smile on her lips.

“Stop giving me that look,” Tony said feeling slightly uncomfortable as a tingle shot through his body.

“Very well, I will lower my gaze,” Ziva said sweetly as her eyes drifted south.

Tony groaned and closed his eyes. “This is going to be a long day isn’t it?”

“You are the reason we are stuck together, Tony,” she said looking him in the eye again.

“We’ve been stuck together a lot longer than today, Miss David,” he replied, looking her straight in the eye.

The twinkle in her eye before she looked away didn’t escape him.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said and sighed.

“Should I sing something to distract you,” Ziva said and smirked.

“How about you keep your eyes forward, David,” Tony said tightly as he pulled his zipper down.

***

As they made their way back to their, well, Ziva’s desk, Tony said in a hushed tone, “Gibbs is enjoying this entirely too much.”

“As is McGee,” Ziva added, nodding.

“They’ve been laughing at our awkwardness all day,” he said and looked at her pointedly.

“Payback,” Ziva whispered as she glanced at Gibbs before taking a seat behind her desk.

Five minutes later, Tony heaved a deep sigh and said, entirely too loudly, “This isn’t working, Ziva. Get up.”

Ziva looked at him questioningly but complied anyway. He maneuvered her in front of him and moved their locked hands over her head, draping his left arm over her shoulder and chest, then pulled her back onto his lap with his free hand.

“You type faster one-handed than I do with both hands. I’ll handle the mouse,” he explained, feeling Gibbs’ eyes on him. Which was probably the only thing keeping Tony from burying his nose in Ziva’s hair and inhaling deeply. He really had to start thinking things through more.

After a long moment, he turned to look at Gibbs, innocent expression on his face, and said, “Problem, boss?”

Gibbs’ glare intensified and for a second, Tony swore he felt something brush against the back of his head. When Gibbs unexpectedly broke the stare first, Tony had to suppress a grin and looked over Ziva’s shoulder, gently squeezing her thigh.

“It’s working,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’ve noticed,” she breathed and wiggled the tiniest bit in his lap.

“We’re trying to make them uncomfortable, not me,” he hissed.

“You do not find me sitting in your lap comfortable?” she asked innocently in a low voice.

Tony tightened the arm he had around her chest, leaned in even closer and whispered in her ear, “Not in the middle of the bullpen with Gibbs six feet away, giving me a death glare.”

He could feel her body shake slightly as she suppressed a giggle.

They had the common sense to put a little more distance between them as soon as Gibbs started slamming his desk drawers. The desk was saved from total destruction by the ringing of his phone. A few gruff words and the slamming of the phone later, Gibbs walked past them and said, without stopping, “Petty officer was found cheating on his wife in a motel.”

Tony and Ziva looked at each other, relieved the case had a happy ending. Well, probably not happy for the married couple, but nobody had died and they’d get to go home at a normal hour.

Tony’s eyes scanned her face. “You look comfy,” he said playfully, raising his eyebrows.

“I am,” Ziva said in a low voice.

They both startled when Gibbs breezed by and threw something at them, saying, “Don’t make me get a crowbar.”

Ziva held up the offending object for closer inspection; adhesive remover.

***

Shortly after Tony and Ziva had finally managed to free their hands, Gibbs had sent the team home for the day. Judging by the look on his face, Tony had assumed his boss was going straight to his basement for the bourbon, not the boat.

“You do not have to hold my hand anymore, Tony,” Ziva said looking up at him as they made their way to their cars.

“I know I don’t,” he said, an amused look on his face. Her brow creased slightly. “Neither do you,” he added in a husky voice, giving her interlaced fingers a little squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following prompt which I found at tivaprompts on tumblr:  
> Imagine your OTP having to use super glue for a project. Somehow, person A’s hand gets stuck to person B’s. Shenanigans ensue.
> 
> Thank you for reading, reviewing, liking, bookmarking,...you all inspire me to keep writing. And to those who read A Helping Hand, I'm still trying to come up with a third chapter.


End file.
